


My Eyes for Me

by Gilate_giearly



Category: Free!
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Fantasy-ish au, Fluff and Angst, Haru’s little journey to love, M/M, prince!Haru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27737017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilate_giearly/pseuds/Gilate_giearly
Summary: Nanase Haruka, the prince from the prophecy, wanted nothing more than to be free from his faith.That was why he found himself in front of small cottage where the most dangerous wizard had lived—“I want you to rip my eyes out.”But maybe what he got instead were another pair of green eyes of a man in front of him.
Relationships: Nanase Haruka & Tachibana Makoto, Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Gems

_As the prophecy proclaims, the Queen will give birth to a prince; whose love and kindness could be used to nurture the whole world; whose smile could bless one beholder for eternity; and whose grace could bring the most cold-blooded of humans to tears. But the finest of all will be his eyes, two marquis-cut aquamarines, possessing a great magical power which can only be wielded once in his lifetime—One wish will be granted to the man worthy of the prince’s true love._

･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

“Haruka,” the voice from the other side of the door laced with suppressed impatience. Two empty knocks were merciful enough to present themselves to Haruka’s ears. “Haruka, you shall not keep the prince waiting.”

The young prince addressed sighed, but proceed to lie flat on his stomach in bed. This is the fourth time this week, and possibly the hundredth this life, that a ‘prince’ or a ‘princess’ declared they wish to marry Nanase Haruka— _Haruka_ , of all people. Funnily enough, he used to think that they had been joking, and that this train of suitors would stop coming when they found out how unlikable Haruka was.

But it couldn’t be helped, though. Haruka was the prince in that foolish prophecy—the one that kept babbling on about his own ‘Aquamarine’ eyes.

How unhinged does a higher deity have to be to embed all this magic inside of Haruka just for him to involuntarily give it away to the one he marries to, assuming that Haruka will ever offer his so-called ‘true love’ to that person?

It was as clear as day that all those suitors came to him for their _one_ _wish_.

Haruka could smell the greed even from the other side of the palace.

The prince sat up, sinking more into his bed in the process, and gaze at himself in the gold-framed mirror. From Haruka’s silky black hair to slender fingers, nothing was special. He would have been very much thankful for those unimposing features if not for the two navette orbs staring right into his own, the eyes that can manage to shine its bright blue hue even in the scarcest of light. That was how his parents had found out that he was _different_ —the chosen one, they say. And the _useful_ one, they think.

If there was one thing Haruka wanted to get straight, it would be the fact that he absolutely _despised_ his eyes.

For all that, Haruka settled with “Yes, mother,” in the end.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

Strands of Haruka’s hair were fluttering subtly to the wind’s content. The evening light aligned in rows on the wooden shelving wall, as if to the old books a spotlight. Out of the corner of his eyes, Haruka could see the ripples on the lake, moving forward in such a way that it’d just been given a life to live. Despite that, the river still gave him the sense of serenity, smoothness, and peace; even though he had not once been in engulfed in such a body of water.

The palace library was one of Haruka’s hideout, not that he enjoyed reading to a religious extent, mind you, but everyone who chose to be their minded their own business. The young prince could spend the briefest time of day with his mates: Nagisa, the royal guard’s son; Rei, Haruka’s study partner, and Rin, a prince from the town nearby.

“Now now, Haru-chan!” Nagisa’s bubbly voice popped Haruka out of his reverie. “Are you not going to tell us how this one went?”

The raven-haired prince averted his gaze to the side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That sentence should have been recorded as the most pot-bellied lie of the history, for Haruka knew exactly what his blond friend was talking about.

Truth be told, just recalling the face of that prince whatever-his-name-was of the Seven Deadly Sins (or it may have been the Seven Seas, only God would know) made Haruka’s entire stomach churn in disgust.

“I don’t like him,” he replied eventually.

“Do you need me to act surprised?” Rin cut in before Nagisa could wail, his red head never lifted from the table. Haruka could bet a horse and two pods of peas that he had woken himself up just so that he could snap that one line at Haruka. “You know, for the effect, your damned highness.”

“Thanks for the offer, Matsuoka,”

“Anyhow, Haruka-sama, I—”

“Just Haru is fine.”

“I know that this is nothing new to you, Haruka-sa… Ahem. Haruka-san,” Rei propped his elbows on the book stand and pushed up his spectacles with the three fingers of his. “However, it would be brilliant if you could tell us what you really desire, so that we can help you provide an answer to this continuous dilemma.”

What does Haruka want?

In spite of his long 18 years of life, Haruka had seldom been asked that question. No one knew that not only did he despised his supposedly special eyes, but he also loathed his being. Everyday, Haruka would wake up, meet a suiter or three, spend the littlest time half-freely with his mates. Time flowed like hardening cement. In fact, his favorite time of day was his sleep.

Even if he had passions, his status would never allow the young prince to follow them.

Boredom was like the seemingly harmless acidic substance in your stomach when it hasn’t been fed for too long, slowly biting out your flesh, grumbling in anger as it does so.

“Probably to get rid of these first,” Haruka stoically gestured his eyes with his finger as if pulling a pair of organs out of its socket was equivalent to eating a dessert after dinner. “And run away from the palace.”

Silence.

_Too straightforward ?_ He wondered as soon as those words escaped his lips.

“Ah! Haru-chan, you’re so fu—funny!” Nagisa tried for a laugh, not effectively rubbing the situation in any good way. “Aha…ha…”

“Ahahahaha. I know, right? Na—Nagisa-kun,” Rei joined in. Sour as ever. And one knows it is messed up when Ryugazaki Rei plays along with Nagisa.

The bespectacled ended his antics with a couple of mortified coughs into his fist.

“A mad lad, I figured,” Rin slurred as he turned his head that was still rested on the wood. With slightly more muffled sound, there followed “Did they force your buttocks out of the bathtub before an hour this morning?”

“Excuse you,” Haruka retorted, ready to end the subject this way. But as he shot his head up, he was met with three concern-roaring pairs of eyes.

There was nothing left for Haruka to do but sigh. Exasperated, yet grateful.

“I’m fine, guys,”

_I’ve been living this fate for ever._

“Maybe we should give Haruka-san what he wishes,” Rei defeatedly said.

Nagisa wept immediately, fat tears rolling down his pink cheeks.

“Oi, Nagisa…”

Rin picked his head up at last. “I actually have an idea.”

At that, even Haruka was surprised.

“What is it, Rin-chan?”

“You guys know that evil wizard in the woods?”

Only Rei appeared to be catching up with the redhead. “Ah yes, the wicked man who attacked the entire kingdom using his witchcraft in no more than minutes, a twisted sneer always plastered on his face. He butchered the king and his young daughters as screams of fears echoed down the hallway of the old palace. The wizard indeed was the satan of savagery!

But luckily, his brother came back in time, abandoned him from their territory. The man has been patiently waiting for his revenge in the deepest of the boscages.”

_Oh._ Haruka must’ve learned that some where in this timeline. The kingdom in question was his own, after all.

He did not regret looking out of the window throughout his study sessions, though.

“Oh, I remember!” _Lovely. Nagisa knows of that, too._ “It said in the book of Wikipedia that he is still alive.”

The boy made a faux shiver so as to convince an indifferent Haruka.

“Nagisa, I don’t think the book of Wikipedia is much of a reliable source.”

“That’s besides the point,” Rin mused while pushing his long fringe back. “Listen, Haru, that guy can definitely take your eyes out—which is revolting, by the way—easy as lobster pie; and no one would ever dare follow you into that horrendous forest.”

“I could never have imagined you knowing such lengthy words,” Haruka deadpanned. “You’re a big boy now?”

“Silence, Nanase.”

“Anyway, Haruka-san,” Rei had his two hands up as though those palms were ever going to stop Rin and Haruka from snapping at each other. “If you have decided to really go on this dangerous, and not beautiful at all—please allow me to weep for a moment, journey, I can provide you the map for the cottage of our magic user.”

“Ah. Thanks, Rei.”

To sum it up, all Haruka got from this fifteen-minute conversation was that he was going to seek help from a berserk grandsire who sometimes tried to overthrow Haruka’s dynasty and got kicked out of the kingdom.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

Did people who tried to convince their queen mothers that they were to out to the town market hold baskets or not?

That was currently Rei and Nagisa’s quandary, although it was none of Haruka’s concern. The time had passed a week since his contemplation on this great escape/death plan, Haruka had been waiting long enough.

“Let me go already,” Haruka huffed, trying to wiggle out of the unnecessary brown cape.

Haruka turned to regard his friends even in the presence of the mirror in front, for this was very likely the last time he would see the carefree smile underneath Nagisa’s mob of bright blond hair, or Rei’s crimson-framed glasses through these gem surfaces.

Soon enough, Haruka was allowed to leave his lifelong cage—by Rei, Nagisa, and, _most_ _irrelevantly_ , his mother (“I must say I find it odd for you to wish to go out, Haruka”).

His right foot crossed the palace gate, the dry wind scraped the past from his face. And so into the woods Haruka went.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

The throbbing at his feet was getting so prominent that Haruka could nighly hear it as he trudged through the howling herd of animals. The air escaping his mouth mingled with the mist and shadow created by the monstrous-looking trees.

However, there was something else that was blaring inside Haruka’s brain, and seeping out of his whole soaking body. His usually unfocused orbs were wide; and the blood flowing seemed as though it was in a rush—surging with anticipation.

_Free._ The wave hit the shore at his beating lump with a sound.

He would be free of his sin in just minutes, maybe seconds. Even if the wizard killed him afterwards, Haruka would be happy just to live without his cursed eyes for a breath.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

Haruka had no idea what time it was when he stood outside of a small, worn out cottage at the end of his route, but by the time Haruka glanced up, the leaves and branches of the plant clinging and gluing the rocks shaped into a home were already dyed red by the sky.

No, he wasn’t scared—of pain or black magic.

_Knock. Knock._

There responsed a click from the other side, letting Haruka know that it was about time.

Before the door fully cracked open, Haruka spoke,

“I want you to rip my eyes out.”

“...”

“...”

_“What?”_

Haruka looked up, utterly puzzled by the most silvery voice he’d ever heard.


	2. Stars

Expectations plays a big part in the turn out of our reactions, Haruka discovered. He himself had expected to see darkness, gore, dripping blood, or even a staff with dimly glowing rock.

But now, he was gawking at a young man with a very severe case of bed head.

Haruka blinked twice. Thrice.

“I—I’m sorry. You want me to do what?” The man spoke again, his honey-like voice laced with nervousness. Haruka cocked his head to the side despite himself.

_His eyes are shining green_ , Haruka observed.

The man smiled so reluctantly that it looked rather like a grimace of lips, and walked further into the light of sunset, revealing his daintily built body in a sleeveless shirt and an old, loose pair of trousers.

_Shite_ , he observed further.

Fortunately, as a prince, Haruka had been well trained to detect his emotions and deject them immediately.

Unfortunately, it was his queue to speak.

“Are you the wizard?”

“Uh…Huh?”

_Are you sure you don’t have too much wax in your ears?_ Haruka complained internally.

“I’m here to see the wizard. I want him to take my eyes out, so maybe he can make use of them,” he was surprised to hear himself being this eager to explain to a complete stranger

“The wizard? You mean my great great granduncle of my grandfather of my father’s cousin?” The green-eyed man responded as he rubbed the back of his head with his hands. “Ah, you see, he died some time ago, only the descendants live here now—well, that means me, my siblings, my dad, and my mom who don’t use magic anymore, by the way. But my parents and siblings moved to the town nearby for my siblings—the twins, they’re still quite young and naughty, actually—to study, um. So it’s just me…right now,”

The herculean, loquacious, and good-looking, may Haruka add, man slowed his speech down at the very end, his eyes no longer misty.

Haruka quirked his eyebrow in the least royal way possible.

“Wah, I’m so sorry! I was rambling so much and was wasting your time. It’s somewhat complicated and I just couldn’t stop myself because I just woke up and had no solid consciousness. I’m so sorry!”

Averting his eyes to the sky, his aquamarine eyes found out that the curtain above had changed to dark voilet now, yet, he knew he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear more rambling from the peculiar guy.

He was not used to this language being spoken to him, much less in such an extensive context. That should be the reason for his craving to listen to this voice a touch more.

But now what?

Mutedly, Haruka weighed his decisions. In all honesty, he hadn’t thought he’d come this far; the prince had secretly contemplated the high possibility of him being slaughtered by a bear cub on his way here.

“Oh! It’s dark out here. I’m sorry I can’t help you with, um, taking your eyes, but I don’t think you should stay out there for too long,” the forest-dweller bore Haruka a solution with a wide, innocent grin. “Come in, come in.”

_Oh, well._

The prince shrugged subtly as he followed into one cozy home of the green-eyed man.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

“There you go,” a voice cheerfully rung in Haruka’s right ear. The current owner of the small cottage had brought him a ‘nice cup of tea from my mom’s finest recipe! Even the twins love it’.

The prince nodded his thanks while busying himself with the discolored porcelain cup.

He looked around the tiny space that was supposed to be a residence for five people. Despite the lack of area, the cottage was delicately built and arranged; shelves with old books and with old books and appliances in vintage colors, some vivid and others dull in saturation; under Haruka’s feet was a carpet very possibly retrieved by skinning an unknown animal.

What illuminated the whole place, nonetheless, was the orange flicker of light from the fireplace running around the house impatiently. The face of the man sat opposite of Haruka was licked by the auric rays, complimenting his sharp jawline and turned-up nose.

“I—if you don’t mind,” spoke of the devil. “I wonder why you would want to do that?”

Haruka tilted his head up mid-sip, discreetly admiring the mellow smell of his cup of tea.

“Um, I mean,” the man’s face reddened a little, his expressions softened. “Your eyes look very pretty…like an ocean glimmering under the sun. Well, um. I probably sound like a creep, don’t I?” The host rubbed the back of his head again.

Never had Nanase Haruka heard someone referring his eyes to any body of water before. Haruka was used to it being called a gem, a jewel—a _rock_ that happened to reflect in an abnormal way.

He felt heat rising onto his face. 

“I have aquamarine eyes,” Haruka mumbled into his tea.

“I see! That’s— eh? Wait, aquamarine eyes!?” He, possibly unintentionally, raised his voice, then suddenly squirmed in his seat and whispered, “You’re the prince!”

It seemed like Haruka underestimated his own fame. He sighed, knowing that there was no way to cover it up now.

“I—I apologize, your royal highness! I must have acted greatly inappropriate. Oh no, please forgive me!” He knelt down on the floor with a loud _thud_ , eyes squeezed shut as if he expected that Haruka would smack him on the head now that he realized his identity.

It was quite an endearing sight, nonetheless, so he did not utter a word.

Seconds passed, the commoner registered that the prince would not do any harm to him. He slowly lifted his head.

“Your majesty, I, um… Do you need—I mean, want, I mean, wish for anything?”

“Just Haru is fine,” the prince stood up and extended his hand to the man below. No matter how much he like seeing the man fluster, it didn’t please him at all to see his power being something his people dreaded.

No human being should ever have to fear for their lives just because of another human who won the money lottery. Haruka should be grateful for them, even, for his whole family luxuriously lived on their hardships. 

“I don’t need anything special, maybe your name might just do.”

The green in the man eyes swirled and brightened in mere shock. A small smile came back by-and-by to his face when the man took Haruka’s proffered hand. “My name is Makoto. Makoto Tachibana.”

“I see. Thank you, Makoto,” Haruka said as he pulled the man up, receiving a wide beam from him. Haruka feared that this Makoto might break into tears on the spot, overwhelmed by whatever he had just said.

His palace could never be this warm.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

After being easily convinced to staying the night, Haruka settled himself in one of Makoto’s old clothes, then comfortably climbed on the bed that used to be Makoto’s mom’s. From under the thick blanket, the slightly cold, fresh air oddly warmed him from the inside.

Haruka had nowhere to go tomorrow, but he had tired himself enough for today. As soon as Haruka closed his eyes, he drifted into a dreamless sleep.  
  


.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

Haruka had never known how birds chirped so sweetly to each other in the mornings. He had never known what ‘dew’ looked like in real life, despite having learnt its cycle for all his life. He had never experienced this much amount of soreness in his legs.

He was sitting at the dining table outside of the Tachibana house, taking in his surroundings. The trees on the outskirts provided shade for the place, no longer bringing out fright in Haruka. The hazy sight resembled his feelings right after awakeness. He couldn’t help but close his eyes in satisfaction.

“Good morning, H—Haru.”

“‘Morning,” Haruka returned as Makoto brought in breakfast on the rustic wooden table.

The man brightened up immediately after Haruka’s brief response. “Did you have a good sleep?”

Commoners do ask a good number of questions, Haruka noticed.

“Mhmm.”

“Ah, I’m glad,” the host sank into his chair. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

A good number of unusual ones, too, he added.

Nonetheless, the prince brought the plate close and nibbled on the slightly burnt fried egg and toast. “Maybe you should try a timer next time.”

Instead of being offended by the rude statement, Makoto gave Haruka a sheepish laugh. “I’m hopeless at cooking, really. I always forget a step or two along the way, so my food always turns out impaired or uncooked.”

Another quirked eyebrow from Haruka.

“Alright, alright. And I may or may not have burnt down the kitchen once or twice,” Haruka covered his mouth so as to not let out a chuckle. “Have _you_ ever cooked, Haru?”

“No,” _‘Royalties aren’t supposed to take to job of a chef,_ ’

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

“Haru, I wonder,” Makoto asked after dinner that night. “Why did you run away? You didn’t just want to take those eyes out, right?”

Haruka physically frowned at that. They’d only introduced themselves to each other not a day before, yet this man had already know how to read into Haruka’s actions.

“Ah. I um. I’m prying, aren’t I?” Makoto scrubbed the dish in his hands in a frantic manner. “Y—You don’t have to answer. I fine. I...um it’s only been a day since you knew me, after all, so I understan—”

“I was bored.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t want to get married,” Haruka clarified as he dried said dish that was passed to him with a towel as he was taught by his host. “Human do live on avarice, after all.”

“Because of your true love, isn’t it?”

“Ah.”

_How can I give out love if I did not know how to give myself any._

Calm comprehension waved passed Makoto’s face. “I’m sorry.”

Haruka flicked his hands softly to get the small droplets of water out and said: “It’s what’s best for everyone.”

Makoto smiled at him, but the viridescent tinge in his eyes wavered as it was crinkled. “You’re kind, Haru.”

“You’re embarrassing, Makoto.”

The laugh Haruka received only made his heart flutter more tenderly.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

After acknowledging Haruka’s prior life as an heir to throne, Matoko had tremendously became more determined to soak Haruka into the life of a commoner. Today was no exception, the green-eyed man had promised Haruka with a nod to his head, and a fist to his hands to bring him to the lake nearby to swim.

_Swimming_ for the first time.

In a pair of woolen shorts, Haruka stared at his own reflection on the flat, mirroring surface of water. Unreasonable reluctance had rushed through his nerves. Maybe this was not a good idea, at the end of the day.

He crouched down as carefully as he could muster on the wet inclined plane of grass.

“Haru,” the man beside him, who was, in the mean time, taking the role of an instructor, called. “It’s okay. I used to be scared, too.”

“‘M not scared.”

“Well, I must say you’re a very cautious person, then,” Makoto laughed the tension out of Haruka’s stomach and dipped himself in the body of water.

When Makoto’s head was back up above the surface, his normally brown, tousled hair was pushed back slick, and glistened with moisture. Haruka would have at once drooled at the sight if not for the next words the man said, “Come on in, cautious Haruka.”

“Stop teasing me already.”

The man below let out a giggle. “Sorry, sorry. Here, hold my hands.”

Haruka puffed out his cheeks in well-disguised agitation but did as he was told regardless. It was _not_ as if Haruka himself wanted to link hands with Makoto.

With a muted _splash_ , the former prince was down in the lake. His curled-up body sinked sluggishly into the dark at the same time that he felt pressure on his skin and hair. It seemed like time had stopped for a short and sweet moment as well as his thoughts, his stress, and his panic. Coolness seeped into his skin like a gentle breeze from the night sky.

It was nothing like being in the bathtub.

Seconds later, Haruka was floating to the top, his face broke the surface of water. He breathed in—feeling the fresh air all anew. The sugary sensation of his inbreathing was never before—it felt like a rebirth. He kept inhaling, fulfilled and soothed.

It was not until then that Haruka realized that his hands were still in the warm grasp of Makoto.

“That wasn’t so bad, eh?” He must have seen the look in Haruka’s face. The amateur swimmer immediately scowled, a blush crept onto his mortified cheeks.

“The water is good,” Haruka declared childishly then pulled his hands away. He slowly kicked his feet with pure instincts underwater, hips moving through the streamline. And when he started to move his arms along, he could swear that it felt like he was flying in snow-white peace.

“Wow, Haru,” he heard a dolce whisper from afar. Haruka hid his turned up lips under the water.

_Is this happiness?_

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

_“Makoto, how much salt did you put in this?”_

_“Wha—? It’s salty! But I already counted how many grains of salt I have to put in!”_

_“Haruu, you shouldn’t try to drink dew out of those trees.”_

_“I wasn’t doing that.”_

_“Hehehe. You’re funny, Haru.”_

_“Haru! You caught a fish. You’re truly talented!”_

_“You’d be able to do the same if you didn’t spend so much time sympathizing with the worm bait.”_

_“_ _Gah!! Haru, there’s a spider in the dark, you hear?”_

_“Are you scared?”_

_“Mhmm, Haru…”_

_“I’ll get rid of it.”_

_“Haru, your hair looks very soft underwater.”_

_“Haru’s my favorite prince.”_

_“You are too.”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_Is this happiness?_

_  
_

.:**:. ☆*.: ｡  . ✿

It’d been about seven nights since Haruka sought refuge in this dwarf cottage. It had also been seven days since he lit out of his residence.

In wholehearted truth, Haruka had not yet found himself a resolution for his failed attempt in abolishing his pain—to put in other words, his damned aquamarine eyes; for he had been so engrossed in having Makoto by his side, hearing his unpolished laughs, listening to his unending rambles, and even his compliments he seemed to store for Haruka.

But ever since his first swim, Haruka knew he couldn’t bring himself to bother Makoto and risk his safety with Haruka’s title any longer.

“Ah, Haru, I will have to go in town today,”

Makoto had done so many things for him. Still, this was not right for either of them.

“Haru?”

“Are you all right?”

That snapped him back to the presence. But it was too late; Makoto had already sensed that Haruka was bothered by something.

“‘M fine,” he said. Even so, the host’s worry hadn’t faltered from his face at all. Haruka knew he owed Makoto as much as the truth.

“I don’t want to burden you and your home with my presence any more than I already have.”

“That’s—”

“And I still need to fix myself.”

“Fix…you?” A look of alarm and cognition banished Makoto’s previous worried crease between his brows. Haruka was certain he didn’t like this any better.

“Mhm.”

“You…don’t like it here?”

Nanase Haruka, at the age of eighteen, who did not know what happiness was; ended up giving Makoto—this beautiful man, Makoto—silence.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

When Makoto returned home, he uttered no word to Haruka and disappeared to his room without delay.

Haruka felt a stab of knife inside his chest, disemboweling the insides of his heart. He was left hollow, more so than he used to feel when alone in the palace. He hadn’t imagined that it would ache him this much to see Makoto’s back facing him.

The pain was foreign, but the fault was his.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

It was dark, and Haruka was still in the lake. He had found out that being here found him peace throughout the multiple times that Makoto had brought him. But for today, be as it may, Haruka found his peace and quiet slowly dripping in hallucinatory blood from his upper body.

For the first time, the black-haired prince arose from the water without a word of convincement from others.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

The cottage was dead quiet when Haruka stepped in. Makoto was nowhere to be seen, which dumped the blue-eyed even more worries. He could hear his own cowardly heart drumming its rhythm unrhythmically 

Haruka was scared for Makoto, that was definite, but he was so of his own heart as well.

“Makoto,” Haruka’s hand laid flat, instead of knocking, against Makoto’s bedroom door.

“Makoto,” he uttered the name once more and found out that the name tasted like chocolate paste, sweet to the touch but also bitter enough to shake him awake. Although Makoto might be more valuable than every jar of chocolate paste in his palace combined.

Haruka let the thought sink sourly as he pushed the door open, for if in the right state of mind, he wouldn’t dare to. “Mako—”

“Makoto!” From his lips, came a broken whisper.

The man in question was on the floor, skin pale to the point that it seemed green in human’s eyes. Random items were scattered on the floor as if it had tried to save their master from collapsing.

The blood still dripping from Haruka’s heart frozen, the cold crept its bite to the core of his beating lump.

“Makoto,” he croaked, trying to slap the other man into consciousness.

The prince gripped the commoner’s body obtusely, then brought him to his lap.

_Makoto, Makoto._

As if to answer Haruka’s internal call, Makoto ever-so-slowly opened his misty eyes.

“H—Haru-chan…?” The green-eyed man seemed so small in Haruka’s arms, so vulnerable, like a child just woken up in his mother’s care.

Haruka might have to let the affectionate honorific gnaw his mind for the moment.

“What were you doing, Makoto?” The question was intended to come out as a scold, but Haruka definitely just heard himself said it with the weakest, most desperate voice he’d ever known.

“I—” Makoto’s hoarse voice stopped abruptly as he took a brief, hurried look at the table to his side. But when he noticed that Haruka was indeed watching his every move, Makoto stiffened immediately. “I don’t know.”

“Shh. You’re the worst liar I’ve ever encountered,” Haruka smiled down at him gently.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

“Mmright, Haru.”  
  


After using a great deal of strength to hustle the groggy green-eyed boy up to his bed, Haruka found himself in front of the table Makoto sneaked his glance at.

The stack of paper on it read:

_The Book of Spells_

Haruka’s fist clenched tight, his nails dig in like a starving canine as realization hit him.

Makoto had tried to learn a spell to help Haruka. He had threatened his sanity for Haruka’s dim, stupid sake.

“Haru…”

The prince flinced at the sound, his hands still placed on the rough texture of the old, unused paper.

“Why?”

The scarlet light in Makoto’s room flickered.

“…” The green-eyed boy looked down, remorseful. “I just want to help Haru. I want Haru to be happy.”

_Help?_

_You could die, idiot._

“Don’t do it again,” Haruka strode to the door. “I—I don’t want that. I don’t want it anymore.”

Damn his voice as it fractured down saying the last part.

_I just want Makoto to be the same._

“Haru?”

“I’m going to make something for you to eat. Stay here.”

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

Haruka came upon a small cookbook in one of Makoto’s cabinet. It was possibly written by his mother for Makoto himself. The prince chuckled mutedly, it sounded fairly ironic when one knew how hopeless Makoto is at cooking.

He took the time to flip trough hundreds of lovingly written recipes. The penmanship, albeit not relevant to the purpose of the cookbook, was neat and sedate—giving out the sentiment of an absolutely doting mother. It did not surprise him much anymore how Tachibana Makoto came out to be who he was today.

His eyes caught one recipe that seemed right and easy enough for someone who had never in his life been in a kitchen like Haruka.

He traced the characters of the heading mindlessly as he read: _Cream of corn_

Fortunately, the directions were so detailed for Makoto’s understanding that Haruka had no difficulty in following. More fortunately, Haruka could find every ingredient desired from the storages around the cottage.

Firstly, Haruka took out a bowl and carefully sliced out corn kernel from its cob with a one of the knifes in the kitchen, shamelessly cleaned the same knife so as to slice an onion. He then dumped those corn and sliced onions in a pot with clean water, put it on the stove. He waited for it to cook slowly whilst noting the way his ingredients changed their colors throughout the time.

Haruka breathed in, and, as bizarre as it might sound, the warmth from the stove calmed his jumping nerves.

A long time had passed when Haruka lifted the pot up to strain the ingredients inside. After placing what was left into a pan, Haruka added milk, salt (no, he did not count how many grains he put in), pepper (yes, he spent a good minute deciding whether what in his hands were pepper or not), flour, and butter. As a perfect finish, Haruka thoroughly stirred the soup.

Watching the ingredients mold and tranform into something humans can appreciate through the sense of taste turned out to be more agreeable than he had expected.

The dilettante cook lifted the wooden spoon in his hand, but only to discover a potential disaster. He scrunched his nose.

Why did the soup turn out so runny?

Haruka frowned and tasted the food with a smaller spoon. The flavor was a passable relish, but the texture was not very much enjoyable, however.

At a loss, he glanced around the room and noticed a loaf of bread. Taking a small bite, Haruka winced at the staleness of it.

_Alright_ , he sighed. This may or may not work but it’s worth a try, that is, his mere instinct.

Ever so gently, he added in breadcrumbs to the soup. Surprisingly enough, the liquid started to get bulkier, and thickened in no time.

Haruka took another spoon of the soup into his mouth and smiled for the first time that day.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

“T—thanks,” Makoto’s eyebrows furrowed together as he settled the bowl of corn soup on his blanketed lap. “I thought Haru has never cooked before,”

_Adorable_ , Haruka thought.

“How rude,” Haruka said. “You can just starve, then.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” The man hit Haruka’s hand sparingly with his own. “It’s an honor to try Prince Haruka’s first dish.”

“Eat.”

“Alright,” Makoto chuckled as though he hadn’t just been practicing witchcraft mere hours ago. “I’ll eat, then.”

Haruka nodded, fully prepared for Makoto’s complaint as the other took in a full spoon of Haruka’s soup.

Confusion clouded over his face as the soup was being savored, then it was pure shook.

“Haru!” Those green eyes shone with intense emotions. “This is amazing! It’s heavenly!”

_Um…what?_

“What?”

“The soup tastes great, Haru-ch—” Makoto stammered. “I meant, Haru.”

Haruka huffed, not knowing what to say to neither the slip nor the compliment. His gaze fixed on one particular corn kernel floating lazily in the soup as if it had called his name.

For one, though, he couldn’t believe he would receive such a positive reaction to his Stale-Bread-and-corn-he-guessed-Soup. Haruka was flattered, and Makoto was most unquestionably out of his mind.

“Did you…did you count any grains of salt?”

“No.”

“No counting sugar either?”

“Fortunately, no.”

“Heh,” Makoto’s slightly droopy green eyes smiled dearly. “I love it. Um…The soup. I love the soup.”

Maybe Makoto might have had a fever and gave it to him, after all, for he felt a vigorous amount of heat flying to his face.

Cooking was pleasant, Haruka reckoned. And Makoto’s praises on his cooking was almost more pleasant.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

Seven nights became one full moon cycle in a blink of an eye. Haruka had swum more, cooked more, fished more, had taken up baking, and even tried working as a merchant in town; all of those activities accompanied by a certain Makoto Tachibana.

Most important, though, was the fact that Haruka had continued to fall. He was falling into a lake filled with thoughts of Makoto, a pool of green where he might sink and suffocate if stayed there long enough. He didn’t mind falling deeply, completely, thoughtlessly into wherever Makoto fancied him to.

The falling had been beautiful. Makoto had been beautiful.

“H—Haru.”

“Hmm?”

It was already after dinner and they both had had a long day vending Haruka’s freshly-baked pastries, so Haruka and Makoto were just slacking in quiet in their usual seats on the couch.

“I want to show you…something,” the man’s face turned an incredible shade of red as he stumbled through his words.

“Alright.”

Makoto inhaled as if he hadn’t expect his proposal to be this straightforwardly accepted. “Wait for me outside, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And there Makoto went, fumbling into the crammed storage room at the back.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

The night was rather cold under the mellow light of full moon, singing the trees a soft, whispering lullaby.

After a few minutes of Haruka’s wait, Makoto walked out with a rolled cow hide rug under his arms.

“Hey,” Haruka tilted his head up to look at how the moon printed its gleam on the slightly-tanned face of Makoto’s.

“Hey,” Makoto twinkled back before unrolling the animal skin he had brought out on the damp grass. Haruka sat down without a word, and Makoto followed suit.

When Makoto’s eyes were finally back in Haruka’s line of sight, the man next to him was still squirming uncharacteristically nervously—even for Makoto himself.

“Hey again,” Haruka tried, hoping to untangle the knot in the other’s stomach.

“H—hey.”

“So, what do you want to show me?”

“The…um. The stars,” Makoto choked out. “I want to watch the stars with Haru.”

“Alright,” Haruka said before gazing back up to the sky even though it was a full moon night and he could barely pick out any stars out of the bright, milky moonlight.

And Makoto seemed to have noticed that as well. “Oh no.”

“We can do it another day.”

“But today marks one month since…since we met.”

At that, Haruka’s composure couldn’t help but thaw out into a small smile on his lips.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” he remarked first, resulting Makoto’s protesting face being brought up immediately. “I’d like it either way. Stars or no.”

Haruka laid his back down so as to take a better look at the sky, leaving a teary-eyed Makoto with a gaping mouth.

“Haru-chan…” he managed to say eventually. “You’re beautiful.”

Haruka gulped, not having expected him to shoot a compliment at him at a time like this—at a time when Makoto was so close to him on this little rug, at a time when he could feel see warmth from Makoto so vividly, at a time when it was utterly _impossible_ for Haruka to not inch closer to those green eyes and angelic smile; so he did, inch closer to Makoto.

“Haruka.”

Haruka wanted to cry.

The way Makoto called him like his name was _real_ , like Haruka the first human created by God—to cherish the whole world throughout his lifetime.

At the age of ten, Haruka had learnt that Rei called him as if the name was of a higher power, of something untouchable, and that Nagisa and Rin uttered his name like it was a warm blanket of admiration.

At the age of fifteen, Haruka finally understood the way his parents used his name to command him the same way they moved a chess piece, one at a time, to secure to safety of their thrones.

Who would have thought that three years later, Haruka, now eighteen, would feel _alive_ just from his name being called?

“You’re embarrassing as always, Tachibana Makoto.” At ease, the young prince closed his eyes.

“Is that against your law, Prince Haruka?” Makoto laughed.

Haruka opened his eyes only to see a pair of green eyes looking back at him. “It is.”

He leaned in, ears opened for all the sounds of crickets, the sounds of them breathing, the sound of Haruka’s clothes rustling against the rug they’re on, and the sounds of two hearts beating. Haruka closed his eyes, ignoring Makoto’s confused yelp, and pressed a sweet kiss on the commoner’s nurtured lips.

_It’s warm. Just like Makoto’s smile._

“There,” Haruka said, feeling his mouth forming a pout, after breaking the brief contact—their noses still touching. “That was the punishment for being embarrassing.”

Makoto’s expression changed rapindly at an hilarious pace within seconds—from shock to bewilderment to shyness, and to clear delight. “I—um. Haru—I. You. And…um—”

“You’re all right?”

“Ahem. Um. Thank you,” Makoto’s cheeks shone bright red despite them being in the darkness of night.

Haruka was relieved at the answer. For a minute, he feared that the kiss might make Makoto unable to form coherent sentences for the rest of his life.

“Brilliant.” Haruka leaned in to touch his lips on Makoto’s cheeks lightly.

“Very much,” the other man slurred, his smile still appeared puzzled and dazed from the little peck and possibly everything that had been happening in the past ten minutes or so.

Haruka looked into the glistening green eyes in front of him. People who had once glorified Haruka’s blue eyes, saying it looked like a shining gem should verily take a look at Makoto.

If Haruka’s eyes were gemstones, then Makoto’s would be the stars shining on the sky—brighter than any full moon, never would it be eradicated by the milky light.

“Are you…um—cold?” Makoto’s voice jerked Haruka from his thoughts. The man tentatively wrapped his arms around his waist. The sensation was very gentle—too gentle, in actual, for a man who had such strong arms.

“Exceedingly,” Haruka replied—amused by the other’s bashful actions, snuggling closer into Makoto’s embrace.

“You know, _I_ was planning to kiss you first tonight,” Makoto confessed in a shrinking mumble as he buried his face in the crook of Haruka’s neck like a gigantic infant he was.

“Idiot,” Haruka chuckled.

_Ah, yes. This might actually be happiness, after all._

He was definitely happy being with Makoto, Haruka thought and closed his _eyes_ , loving its existence for one. He immediately dozed off into the melt of the night sky, hands holding onto his love’s shoulders.

Haruka had found peace in his and Makoto’s little home.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

Haruka opened his eyes to an unfamiliar sight. The light of dawn touched his surroundings into a dazed and subtle glow.

He rubbed sleep away from his eyes and blinked a few more time to get rid of the drowsiness lingering.

_Smack!_

Haruka immediately stopped stretching when his hands hit something that was next to him, and, somehow, around him as well.

“Makoto?”

Eventually, the prince recalled having slept outside of the cottage. Makoto must’ve humped Haruka into his own room after having noticed Haruka’s peaceful slumber. He felt heat rising to his face at the thought of his heavy self being carried.

“Mmhm?” The man next to him stirred, probably as a result of the unintentional slap on his face. “Haru?”

“It’s me.”

“Good morning...”

“Wake up properly before you say that, sleepy head.”

Makoto did not do what he was told, however; instead, he tightened his arms that had been resting on Haruka’s waist this whole time—resulting another slap from a mutedly half-smiling-half-shrieking Haruka, this time on the chest.

“Haruuu,” Makoto whined as Haruka pinched the nose in front of him teasingly. “Hello there. I love you.”

Haruka huffed and turned away. His mind was shot-circuited from the sudden declaration.

_Of course I love you, too._

Although he did not say that out loud, Makoto’s laugh seemed to say otherwise. There was no doubt that the words were brazenly written on Haruka’s face.

“I’m going to get out of bed—” the prince’s sentence was interrupted by three loud pounds on the front door.

_Slam!_

_Slam!_

_Slam!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with chapter two! It’s quite a long one, too lol. I personally love this chapter bc of all the small fluffs here and there; and also everything new that Haru-chan’s experiencing;) So he’s loving himself so much more now<3  
> I hope you all enjoyed it, too. 
> 
> Don’t hesitate to talk to me if you have anything in mind!
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and the comments as always—they make my day*teary eyed*.
> 
> Anyway, have a great day!


	3. Stones

“I’ll get that,” Makoto sat up on his bed with an apologetic smile. “No worries.”

The latter part was added reluctantly. Haruka tasted bitter bile in his mouth—he did not feel well about this at all.

Nonetheless, Haruka nodded.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

Sweat was starting to drench Haruka when Makoto didn’t come back in a count to hundred. Haruka’s mind wandered to several worst-case scenarios that could be happening at the moment. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop those delusional thoughts.

_It’s just a guest,_ Haruka chanted over and over. _Makoto is coming back soon._

It must have been ten minutes that he glared daggers at the bedroom door when he heard a loud clank at the front door. And at last, the door opened.

_Makoto!_

“Makoto,” Haruka shot himself out of bed to run to his commoner only to fall back on it when he saw the _person_ standing behind Makoto at the door.

“Mother.”

“My dear child,” the Queen said under her breath.

“No,” his voice was shaking profusely now, seeing Makoto’s remorseful expression. He was undoubtedly blaming himself for whatever this mess was. His heart was breaking. “Please go back, mother.”

“Haruka,” she strode over to her only son. “This man has imprisoned you for a whole month. I do not expect you to be at your best state of mind right now.”

She touched her worried fingers on Haruka’s jaw and tilted it up to face her.

He swatted her hands away at once. “No, mother. I am better than I would ever be at the palace.”

The Queen stared down at him.

Her eyes were nothing like Haruka’s or Makoto’s. Behind the blue were gray stones, no thoughts of themselves, no consciousness—just floating with the flow of outdated rules and beliefs.

“You need to get married, Haruka,” she insisted. “It is only for your future.”

Haruka gritted his teeth. “Then I’ll marry Makoto.”

From the door which seemed a thousand yards away, Haruka could hear Makoto’s gasp; and from the end of the short distance between him and his mother, Haruka could see the Queen fuming in frustration.

“He’s not a royalty, dear child. A prince like you should know better.”

“I don’t care!”

“ _Enough_ with this joke, Haruka,” his mother scraped the last of her patience into the sentence. “I still have to get the punishment done with.”

“What punishment, mother?” Haruka only managed to hiss back. His spine was abruptly petrified, sensing what the Queen had meant the moment he heard her stony words. 

“This man will be executed,” she shifted her gaze to Makoto. “According to the law. This is the best we could give him, Haruka.”

His heart shattered; even with a prior warning, it shattered into pieces, sticking out through his bones.

“I came here by myself, _your majesty_ ,” Haruka choked out, falling on his unbuckled knees. “P—please.”

“Guards!!” The Queen bellowed. “Take him!”

_No._

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

Outside of the cottage, the trees were deathly still. The shadows seemed forlorn, colored in absolute black—as if it was mourning for the loss of Haruka’s.

Makoto was still in the hands of the Queen’s guards, silently suffering, but not one bit struggling. His eyes were serenely closed, his usual timid self no where to be found. It was as though he had wholeheartedly accepted this distorted faith.

“Haruka,” the woman of the throne placed a hand on his quivering shoulder. “It’s high time we went home. We can take matters from there. Do not fret.”

Seeing Makoto so calm, Haruka did not have the heart to fight any longer. He limply clasped both of his hands in front and nodded in defeat.

Haruka was prepared to step forward when he heard: “Wait. Wait a minute, your majesty.”

It was Makoto’s voice.

All eyes were turned to him suddenly, and even though Makoto flinched at the attention, he straightened himself and continued.

“If I am going to be put to death no matter what,” Makoto smiled sheepishly. “Can I make one _last_ request?”

The lump formed in Haruka’s throat pushed him further, trying to vomit out this discomfort. He didn’t think he could possibly tolerate this ugliness much longer.

“What is it?” The Queen asked, peering at her prisoner out the corner of her eyes.

“I wish to be executed here…by Prince Haruka.”

_What?_

Makoto’s eyes were determined, and beautiful as it always had been. But Haruka really needed to vomit now.

The Queen tilted her head to the side in surprise and said: “That would be no problem for me. Do what you have to do, my son.”

“No,” the prince rushed to his lover’s side. “No, Makoto. I’m not letting you die. I promise. I—”

How foolish. Haruka was the one rambling now with Makoto numbly listening next to him.

“ _Please_ , Haru,” he smiled the same smile that Haruka was used to, though his eyes were glistening with watery tears that refused to roll down Makoto’s face. “Can you do that for me?”

“I can’t,” Haruka tried to say, but it came out in only a pathetic wheeze.

“Please, Haru,” he repeated, this time the tears did roll down his cheeks. Makoto was in absolute pain, and Haruka could do nothing. “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” he choked again, his face twisting in agony. “What are you sorry for?”

Haruka cupped Makoto’s face and captured his lips in a breathless kiss; the man leaned into it and kissed back immediately; desperate, and helpless. When he tasted the saltiness from Makoto’s devastated tears, his hands slacked down and grabbed a fistful of Makoto’s shirt—wasn’t planning on ever letting go.

He let go.

“Give me the dagger,” Haruka breathed out eventually. He snatched the weapon from one of the guards’ puzzled offer. “Lie down, Makoto.”

The man at the receiving end of Haruka’s command smiled at him again; that damned smile of his; and complied with clanks of handcuffs. When he mouthed ‘Thank you, Haru-chan,’ Haruka wanted to do nothing but punch some sense into him.

Haruka slumped down without the need to will himself, the blade shivering, and dripping with hunger beside him.

“We don’t have a whole week for this, Haruka,” the Queen reprimanded.

The dagger was raised above his head, above Makoto’s heart, heavily. Haruka looked down to see the commoner’s green eyes looking straight through him.

“Why?” Haruka asked in a shaky whisper, his arms started to sore from the tension and his grip on the small knife.

“Because I only want Haru to break my heart.”

Haruka’s lips quivered, his eyes felt ten times heavier. It was like he was really going to cry. He wanted to cry.

How ironic. This probably was what the prophecy had foreseen—Makoto’s _wish_ to be killed by Haruka would be granted—all along, was it not?

How pathetic. Haruka’s faith was to kill the only person he had ever known to give his heart to.

The only person who made him see his true self.

_Please_ , Haruka pleaded. Maybe to God, maybe to Makoto, maybe even to the Queen—anyone.

**_Please let Makoto live._ **

_Let Makoto live._

At last, his arms gave out. He pounced his arms down, bringing the sharp tip of the blade to his lover’s chest and tore through the skin, the rib, and the heart.

Haruka screamed.

Hot tears were finally falling from his eyes, his Aquamarine eyes. His heart wrenched inside of its cavity, despite it having already been shattered. Warm blood from his lover splattered on his face, fusing with the drops of tear that have gone cold.

He was crying. Haruka had never cried before. He was howling for help. Haruka had never needed any help before.

While Haruka screamed, Makoto did not make a sound.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

For what felt like hours, Haruka sat there, in front of what should be Makoto’s corpse, his voice lost to the wind; his mind blank and burnt; his face soiled with dried salt. Haruka panted.

But then he heard a shuffling below him. Haruka opened his eyes slowly.

“H—Haru…” Makoto opened his eyes as well.

.:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

_When the prince learn to give true love to himself, his own wish shall be granted._

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, loves. It’s been ages since I last wrote anything...so I’m back!!, although this is actually my first time writing a MakoHaru fic. I hope you guys enjoy it! I had so much fun(and some emotional moments lol) writing it.
> 
> Anyway, I’ve already finished the fic, but I’m going to post it one by one—so don’t worry about it being unfinished!
> 
> One more thing, you can follow me or talk to me via twitter [here](https://twitter.com/gilate_giearly)
> 
> Have a good day, guys❤️


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